Walk Me Home
by Peterisconfused
Summary: It's been a year, three months, and thirteen days since the FAYZ and Diana's drunk.


It had been one year, three months, and thirteen days since the FAYZ and Diana was not over it. She was far from it, in fact- so far from it that she was drunk in a bar.

"You'll be fine," the cheery, smiling therapist had said to her three months ago. "Time heals all wounds. Remember that!" _Well guess what, _Diana thought, _you don't know that, do you? Because it's been a year already and I'm still not fucking healed_. After that, she'd stopped going despite Astrid's chiding and Sam's worried looks.

Diana remembered Astrid's most recent conversation with her about it- _"It's _important_, Diana. You need-" _

_"I don't. Fucking. Need it," Diana snarled back, breathing heavily. "It's just an ass-load of bullshit they feed me because it's not going to be okay. I'm not going to be okay. And you- you _know _what I'm talking about! You go to your stupid therapy, hum your stupid mantra- and for what? You still drink, you still cry, you're still _not over it_. So leave me alone, Astrid. Just leave me alone, okay?" _

Diana closed her eyes, setting down the glass she'd just finished. The lids of her eyes were heavy as hell, and her thoughts were clouded, random. She groaned, the world spinning and the pleasant face of the bartender distorted. "Ma'am?" she asked, concerned-sounding. Her eyes were grey, clear and sharp, and her hair was wavy and blonde. Something about her distinctly reminded Diana of Astrid. Diana smiled. Astrid. Both of them were hella pretty. _And you're hella drunk, Diana, _she thought for a second.

"Mmm. Don't call me... ma'am," Diana slurred, smiling up at the woman. "M' Diana. Diana Ladris." she'd butchered her name with her drunk slurring, but the bartender seemed to recognize it. Her brow furrowed, and she frowned with it.

"Diana- Ladris? As in, the FAYZ Diana Ladris?"

"Yeah, that's me!" Diana confirmed, grinning.

The bartender suddenly looked quite worried for her health. "Shit. Aren't you not supposed to be getting this drunk? I mean- you-"

"Honey, I've drank worse than this," Diana informed her, tracing her finger around the rim of the glass. For whatever reason, there was two of them now, blurred and doubling. She found this extremely funny, and giggled like she was nine again.

"That's... not good," the bartender said uneasily. "That's really not good. Are you sure-"

"Yeppp. But darling, honey, what's your name? I'd like to know. That, and your number," Diana said, though she was pretty near passing out.

"Ma'am- Diana, I mean- you really-" the bartender sighed, apparently deciding Diana wasn't going to quit. "I'm Annabeth. And I have a girlfriend, so." she stared directly at Diana, waiting for a reaction.

"What's her name?" Diana asked, eyes almost closed.

The clear, cold air around Annabeth dropped, and her eyes went soft. "Piper," she said. "We're here in the meantime because she doesn't want to be that far away from her father. We want to move to San Francisco, but before that we want to finish college and have some fun here. So here I am."

Diana smiled. "That's- nice." then she slurred, "and I'm reaally drunk and-" her eyes rolled up and she slumped forward.

* * *

"Shit!" Annabeth dove to catch her, and she did, just in time. Sighing, she set Diana down on the counter gently and rubbed her eyes. This was going to be a longer night than she'd thought. Why had she decided to work here, of all places? And on Saturday, no less. She went around the counter to the customer's side, and squatted down. Diana probably had a phone, somewhere. Diana was wearing a t-shirt and jeans and, blushing, Annabeth checked each pocket to no avail.

"If I were a drunk apocalypse survivor," she muttered, "where would I put my phone?" Annabeth figured that someone would have contacted her, and she could maybe respond to them. Without contact information, this was most likely the best way to reach anyone who mattered to Diana.

Finally, she found a coat on the floor. It was large, baggy, and extremely smelly. Annabeth recoiled at first, then sighed and looked through the pockets. _Therapist business card- scribbled on with a Sharpie with the words _"Fuck You"_, so probably not. Stick of gum, crumpled-up parking ticket... and a phone_.

Annabeth pulled out a flip phone. "Huh," she remarked, opening it. Sort of weird to find a flip phone. What was weirder was that there wasn't a passcode, which you'd think there would be- apocalypse survivor and all that. Annabeth reminded herself the media stereotype wasn't always what it was in real life, and went to Contacts.

Top of the list was an Astrid Ellison, who Annabeth recognized as another FAYZ survivor. Not much of a surprise there. When Piper had heard about the FAYZ and Astrid Ellison, she'd told Annabeth that Astrid Ellison reminded her of Annabeth, somewhat. It was kind of surreal to actually meet people who had millions of articles written about them, famous people. Even more so to realize they did the same things you did. Get parking tickets. Chew gum. Get drunk. You'd always imagined they were different.

_Well, time to meet another one_, Annabeth thought, and called Astrid Ellison.

Astrid Ellison immediately picked up, sounding way more stressed than Annabeth had expected her to. "Diana! Where are you?! We've been searching everywhere, I'm so worried-"

"Ma'am?" Silence on the other end. Then,

"Who is this?"

"I'm a bartender, ma'am, at Cheryl's Bar. My name's Annabeth Chase, and Diana Ladris is currently unconscious. She got a little too drunk-"

"A little too drunk? Oh, she is so dead," Astrid Ellison snarled, then barked, "I'll be right there."

Some twenty-so minutes later, Astrid Ellison arrived, fuming. She was pretty, Annabeth thought, though she did look slightly older than her actual age. Deep bags were under her blue eyes and her blonde hair was stiffer and drier than it had probably been a few years ago. She was wearing a slightly worn coat and black tights. "Thanks so much," she told Annabeth, tone sweet, then turned to Diana. "Diana," she hissed. "Wake up before I make you, oh god I was so _worried_!"

After some mild shaking that Annabeth winced at Diana awoke, eyes bleary and obviously still very drunk. "What-? Astrid..." she sighed, resting her probably-throbbing head in her hands. "I'm too drunk for this."

"You're right, you are too drunk for this," Astrid reprimanded. "You- you-" she buried her face in Diana's shoulder, then burst into tears. "I was so worried!"

"I'm- going over there." Annabeth awkwardly excused herself. Astrid and Diana didn't notice.

* * *

Diana felt increasingly awkward with a sobbing Astrid on her shoulder. "S'okay." she patted her head reassuringly. "I'm here, Ice Queen."

Astrid looked up, glaring at her. Her makeup was smeared and on Diana's shirt now, but she was still beautiful as hell and angry as fuck.

"Aw, c'mon, Astrid. I love you, y'know," Diana told her, wiping away some makeup and ending up smearing it further. "Whoops." Astrid rolled her eyes, sighing.

"Y'know, this makes me think of a song I heard..." Diana grinned at the counter, then swiveled her head wildly to have her drunken grin directed at Astrid. "Something by someone named after a color... Pink. Yeah, that's it. Is called... Walk Me Home." she cleared her throat, then sang- surprisingly well- "_there's something in the way you roll your eyes, brings me back to a better time. When I saw everything was good, but now you're the only thing that's good_."

Astrid smiled, grabbing Diana's coat. "Let's go. C'mon, get up."

Diana slid off the stool, legs wobbling, and lurched forward. Astrid got her and acted as a cane, slinging one of Diana's arms over her shoulders and holding her around her midsection. Diana, observing Astrid's blush at the closeness, said, "'M sorry."

"For what, Diana?" Astrid sighed, casting her a look that made her feel guilty.

Diana didn't respond, somewhat feeling ashamed. "I- for not really- getting drunk, and making you guys worry." she dropped her gaze, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. She didn't look at Astrid, afraid to see the disappointment on her friend's face. The only one she felt like she had left. "Let's go," Diana interrupted, trying very hard to move despite her drunk self. _Tryna stand up on my own two feet/This conversation ain't comin' easily/And darling, I know it's getting late/So what do you say we leave this place? _

"Thanks!" she shouted back at Annabeth, who waved goodbye from the back of the bar where she'd been standing. She then helped Diana out of the bar, half-dragging her. The slight cold of the LA air bit at Astrid, the half-moon providing very little light. She clumsily opened the car door and eased Diana in, who stared at her as she got in on the driver's side. Astrid put in her key, turned, and found that there was no more gas. "Ah, crap," she muttered.

After three more tries she apparently decided it was not going to budge, so with a groan she helped Diana out again and supported her drunk and inconveniently heavy friend out onto the sidewalk. "This is going to be a long walk," she told Diana.

Diana tried to shrug, failing ultimately. Her head lolled for a second, nudged back by Astrid's shoulder. She mutter-sang, somewhat incoherently, "_walk me home in the dead of night/I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm/So say you'll stay with me tonight/'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside_..."

Astrid's arm around Diana's back twitched, and Diana felt her hand be grabbed by Astrid's. Inquiringly, she turned to Astrid, whose face was much more red than normal. "Just walk," she demanded, refusing eye contact.

"Mm-hmm," Diana mumbled, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards.

Silence. Quiet _thunk _from Astrid's shoe. Silence. Diana's drunken mind began to drift, remembering things it shouldn't. The way Caine's hand had felt, warm in her own. The way she had cried when he'd died. How hungry, thin, and sick she'd been. The way she felt in the Gaiaphage's cave, screaming as she delivered the monster that would end up killing so many people. Her throat was tight, her vision was blurring, and she wanted to cry. To break down. To just stop. Because she'd suffered so much already, and life was still hitting her with all that crap. "Can't you give me a break," she whispered.

"What?" Astrid asked, stopping. "You need a break?"

Diana shook her head. "No. I just-" she shuddered. "Nothing."

Astrid eased them to the ground, both of them now sitting on the sidewalk- Astrid still holding Diana's hand, to Diana's strange comfort. With her other hand, Astrid turned Diana's head to face hers and fixed her with a gaze that told her to spill. No words were exchanged between them. Diana knew what that look meant. "It's the FAYZ," she told Astrid, squeezing her hand tighter. "I can't stop thinking about that damn hellhole. And Caine. Gaia. All the pain, everything. Every. Single. _Fucking _detail. Hell, it's burned into my brain, the scars are on my body, and my life's shit already so _why can't it stop_? There should be a max for suffering, Astrid. But there's not so I'm- I'm not okay and no therapy shit can fix me."

Astrid didn't respond for a second, and Diana knew she was thinking. Finally, she told her, "Diana. Life's shit. I know. It's the same for me. My brother died _because of me_. My friends died _because of me_. I'm the Ice Queen, even. Bitch Extraordinaire. And yet- yet- life still won't stop punching the crap out of me and you know why? Because that's how it is. And the best I can do is be pretend everything is alright. Well, not really. What I can do is move on. Life's crap. But I can't do anything about the crap so here I am, and I'm going to keep on going because what else am I going to do? I'm not going to stop, which is the alternative, because Sam is here and you are here and that right there is two things I'm going to keep on living for." Astrid took a deep breath. "Okay?"

This speech of Astrid's had helped her more than any therapy had. Delivered with the effect of a slap, waking up Diana. Finally registering in her mind. One step forward. She'd never fully be 'healed' or whatever shit, she knew that, but she could lower the suffering, the pain, the hell called life. That was the night, a cold LA night with Astrid Ellison, that made her finally begin to try. "Okay," she said simply. _There's something in the way I wanna cry/That makes me think we'll make it out alive/So come on and show me how we're good/I think that we could do some good, mhm_.

That was when Diana Ladris, still semi-drunk, leaned forward and kissed Astrid Ellison on the sidewalk a few yards away from Cheryl's Bar. Astrid did not pull away, chapped and dry lips against Diana's kissing back even. Diana felt warm, content. When Astrid finally did pull away, she smiled briefly- a flash, there and then not- and helped Diana to her feet. The two then silently walked together, something between them they weren't able to explain yet.

_Walk me home in the dead of night _

_I can't be alone with all that's on my mind _

_So say you'll stay with me tonight _

_'Cause there is so much wrong _

_There is so much wrong _

_There is so much wrong going on outside _


End file.
